


A mother's diary

by froeken_frost



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froeken_frost/pseuds/froeken_frost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Maeve Elmsblossom starts her life in adulthood an old friend visits the bosmer in the depths of Valenwood, carrying a special gift for her day of birth. The Champion of Cyrodiil's lost diaries have been found, ment only for the eyes of her daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A gift

The sun rose between the tree tops just like every morning, as Maeve got up. She yawned with relish as she tried to dispel the tiredness of the early morning. Joy gave her shivers as she remembered which day it was. She rose quickly from her small bedroll, packed her stuff together and climbed from the broad elm she had spent the night on.

Her bare feet met the soft, cool ground as she landed. Usually she would now take a few seconds to enjoy the awakening nature, but not today. She briefly orientated herself and broke into a comfortable trot heading north.

The sun had already risen to its zenith as she finally reached the small pond. Her heart started to beat faster, driven by her excitement. She could already see him long before she finally reached the shore. He was sitting there, leaned against one of the trees seaming the shore, relaxed as always.

She couldn’t help the broad smile on her face as their eyes met and she waved at him.

Of course he did not get up to greet her. He stayed on his place until she had reached him and sat down beside him, still smiling ridiculously happy to see her old friend.

“It’s good to see you made it, Honditar!” she snapped at him sarcastically. The high elf slowly met her smile and bowed his head in obeisance.

“I am pleased to see you again, too. All the best to your day of birth, Maeve” he responded, his low voice crackling more than she remembered from last time. Deep wrinkles permeated his golden skin, his eyes more lustreless than she had ever seen them.

Suddenly her joy darkened. “Are you feeling well?” she asked carefully. Her master had already been an old man at the time she met him. But now for the first time, his looks matched his age.

He gave her an almost sad, little smile. “I am an old man, Maeve. Old men don’t make the best travellers. But don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Yet she didn’t felt quite content. But Honditar interrupted her dark thoughts as he reached out for his battered leather pocket. His wrinkles curled as he smiled proudly at her. In his hands he held something wrapped up in old, patched paper.

“From today on you count as a grown-up for your people, my dear.” He handed her the object, which she carefully took from his grip.

“I found it some time ago. I thought it would make a decent gift for your first day of birth as a grown-up.”

Now her curiosity was fully wakened. She forced herself not to rush und unfolded the patched paper with quick deft fingers. Her eyes widened as she realised she hold a tiny little book in her hands, the leathern binding worn and stained.

She looked up to Honditar with confusion. “I … thank you? What is it, exactly?”

Honditar laughed at her obvious misunderstanding. “As I said: I found it some time ago. It appears to be your mother’s diary.”

He had spoken of her mother before, but only a few times, only a few words. It surprised her very much that he would just give so much information to her now.

“I… still don’t understand. You never wanted me to know more about her…” she stammered, her eyebrows raised in confusion.

A silent chuckle was her mentor’s response. “Your mother’s life was a complicated one. She told me not to tell you of it before you were old enough.” His eyes darkened by his words. “Finding her diaries makes everything a lot easier, to be honest.”

He gave her a sad, little smile. “If you read it, don’t forget: She loved you, she always did. Giving you away was not an act of dislike. She did it because it was your only chance to survive.”


	2. Travel’s starting

_16 thRain’s Hand, 3E 426_

_Dammit. Knew this was a dangerous one! Shouldn’t have ever agreed on this! Could hardly escape them! Probably going to kill Karoar if he ever steps in my sight again!_

_Have been on the run since two days now. Should probably keep going but every inch of my body rejects to. I need some rest. Hopefully they won’t find me here!_

_Tonight will be my last night in Valenwood. Can feel my heart bleed by the thought. But staying will be way too dangerous. Seems like every single bosmer in this forests is searching for me!_

_Should have never believed this filthy, godsforsaken Karoar! Seems like had overdone it this time for real. And I’m the one to suffer for it!_

_Think I’ll be heading for Cyrodiil. Don’t dare to cross Elsweyr’s borders. The khajiits would presumable slay me as well. So the Imperial Province._

_I’m quite a good archer, I will make my living somehow. It would be the best to hide in the capital. No one would search for me there. Too many people. If I’ll make it there, I should be safe._

Maeve’s eyebrows furled, her tongue nervously licking her lips. Here her mother’s words lied in front of her. The unfamiliar handwriting tidy, the words small and narrow. She reread the first entry with a lump in her throat. When Honditar left, she could barely wait to open her mother’s diaries, craving for information about the mother she never met.

But now, she did not know what to think about it anymore.

She never assumed the woman who gave birth to her being a criminal. A common thief, running of from her homeland because she would have been executed otherwise.

She thought of Honditar’s words: “Your mother’s life was a complicated one.”

It didn’t seemed complicated to her. It was probably just complicated to tell somebody that her parents were wanted criminals!

She looked at the thick books with disgust. _That_ was surely not what she had been wishing for ever since she was a child!

The forest did not care for her troubled soul. Its murmur stayed steady as always. Silent little noises which had grown so familiar to Maeve.

Her mother probably used to listen to the forest as Maeve herself did. She must have been used to it for all her life. And then she left. Maeve could not think of a life outside of the deep forests of Valenwood. Neither did her mother, presumably. She – Moira! Maeve corrects herself – didn’t seemed happy about the thought of leaving her homeland. Did she ever return?

She sighed. The will to keep on reading Moira’s diaries seemed to have left her. Still, she was curious about it. Yet, she was not sure if she would like what she was going to discover.

She realized she thought of the books as an unwelcome story. But it wasn’t. It was the last remnant of the mother she never had.

 

When she grew up, an orphan in the city of Falinesti, she had often imagined her own family. Whenever she saw families walking around, heard their laughter or their crying, she imagined a mother and a father who would find her one day. Find her and take her back to a safe, cosy, little home. There would be a warming fireplace and scenting candy. A mother’s kiss and a father’s hug to comfort her. Maybe some older siblings to fight for her if she was bullied again. Or some younger ones, which she would raise along with their parents. One she could teach how to successfully run pranks without getting caught.

But this imaginary family never showed up. She had to face her life on her own. Honditar visited her now and then. Every time he did, he tried to find another sweet caring family to take care of her. He usually had success in finding them and for his sake, Maeve stayed with them until her mentor left again. But as soon as he did, she vanished. She didn’t want some stranger to take care for her. She could see for herself.

Her own mother abandoned her by the time she was an infant. And yet, she had survived. Why should she need anyone now?

 

But here it was. Her chance of getting to know the family she ever imagined. Even though her mother died, as Honditar had told her. She now had the possibility to finally learn about her roots.

She sighed in discretion. She would continue to read. She would try to understand the woman who abandoned her infant child.


End file.
